The Haunting of Hogwarts
by LadySkywalkerKirkland
Summary: Regulus Arcturus Black has been legally presumed dead since what would have been his eighth birthday. Now, in 1977, a wraith is about to appear at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Marauders Era AU.
1. Living Nightmares

**Disclaimer: What you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N:** I'm back, guys! But I'm starting a new story...no one has asked for "In Times of War," so I might continue it sometime. We'll see. Updates on this will be fairly quick at first, since I'm on Christmas Break, but they'll slow down considerably as soon as I go back to school. So enjoy! And don't forget to review! :)

* * *

Someone was repeatedly poking Regulus Black in the shoulder, drawing him out of a lovely, deep sleep, the kind full of rest and lacking in unpleasant dreams. He groaned and flipped over, trying to bury his face in his pillow and forget about breakfast or shopping or whatever else it was Dove would be too-cheerfully trying to get him up to do. When he didn't have something important to do of a morning, something like Scout training or Omega meetings, Regulus preferred to sleep through it. Mornings irritated him, and people who had the nerve to be cheerful in the morning irritated him even more.

It was when his endeavor to bury his face in his pillow failed that he began to realize that something was off, and very much so. Not only did his bed not have a pillow, but his mattress was much thinner and harder than he remembered. He could feel a solid, flat metal surface beneath it. He had only one blanket, which was also quite thin, and the air was very cold and damp.

Regulus stiffened and instantly became fully alert. He knew exactly where he was, though not how he had gotten there; the tiny, dismal cell had served as his bedroom for three long years of what ought to have been his childhood, and he knew its atmosphere intimately.

But why was he here? Was he dreaming? If he was, why did it all seem so real?

A sudden, cold fear gripped his insides and yanked hard. Regulus nearly cried out.

What if it _was_ real? What if it was the past few years of relative safety and freedom that had been the dream? What if he was still a much younger boy, lost and alone in a never-ending cycle of fear and –

"Oof!"

Something warm and solid and alive slammed into his body with a triumphant "Ha!" and a loud cry of "I _knew_ you were awake!"

Regulus acted on instinct and squirmed beneath the slightly larger, stronger body, trying to break free even as his fearful, confused brain attempted to place the voice. It was somehow very familiar, even more so than the room, though the memory was from even younger days. Finally managing to shove the intruder off the thin bed, Regulus rolled to his feet, ready to defend himself. But the other boy – for a fellow child his "attacker" indeed was – merely gingerly rubbed the wrist he must have landed on while whining, "Merlin, Reg! What was that for?"

Regulus just stared at the person who casual observers often thought looked just like him, but who to him looked infinitely different. Though all these differences were slight, his older brother had a rounder face, smaller eyes of a more steely gray color, thicker hair, broader shoulders, and greater height than Regulus. Of course, that was just the physical differences; in personality, temperament, and so on, the brothers Black were about as similar as night and day.

"S…Siri?" Regulus croaked in disbelief. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Sirius?"

"What?" the other boy snapped, apparently still annoyed at having been pushed roughly off the bed. When he at last looked up he narrowed his eyes at his younger brother. "What is _wrong _with you?"

Regulus barely heard him through an increasing haze of panic. Frantic mumblings slipped out of breathless lungs almost of their own accord. "No, no, no, no, this isn't right, you shouldn't be here, Sirius was never here. Sirius is safe, my big brother is safe at home with Mummy and with Father and Kreacher too. And that's good, that's the way it should be because Sirius is the heir, Sirius is the firstborn, Sirius is going to be head of the House of Black someday and he'll be brilliant because he's strong and never gets scared of anything." He stopped to breathe.

Sirius just blinked up at him. "Um…thanks?" Then a few of Regulus' words began to sink in and he grinned. "Not supposed to be here? As in, it's against the rules? Wicked!" He glanced around the cell curiously, no trace of fear in his bright eyes. "Are we beneath the house or something?"

Trust Sirius Black to read the potential for mischief into everything, even horrible danger. For one brief moment, Regulus forgot his fear in a wave of annoyance. Trust Sirius to be strong and fearless and the biggest idiot ever to walk the face of the earth, although there were probably a handful of Muggles out there who could give him a run for his money. For one moment, Regulus almost laughed at his older brother's sheer stupidity. Didn't he know that they were trapped here? Didn't he know what the Dragons would do to him?

Then the door opened, and everything changed.

As if his mind wasn't confused enough, Regulus felt himself stretching and growing and suddenly he wasn't a child, he was Wraith once more, in the familiar robes he wore on Scout missions for Omega, robes the cloudy hue of fog at night. Only now, he was neither a child nor a teenager, but a young man, and a weary one. Exhaustion dragged at him from deep within his battered bones.

This cell was even colder and clammier than the one in the Dragon's Den had been. There were rusted, nasty-looking manacles chained to the wall, and there wasn't a bed to speak of, just a pile of straw and a couple of blankets.

In all honesty, it looked less like a place where you keep someone and more like a place you put someone who you'd rather forget about because you don't expect them to survive anyway.

What a horrible thought. What a horrible place. Had he been left here to die? Yes, to die. This, this was reality, everything else was the dream. All of his entire life was just a fiction concocted to keep him sane. But he wouldn't be much longer, and why would it matter, since he was a dead man walking? Yes, he never had an older brother. He never had parents. His early childhood and the sporadic peace of his teen years were a mere fantasy. The dark was all there was, the dark and the cold. There was no happiness.

He would never be happy again.

The wording of that thought, combined with a scratching and scraping from the other side of the room, brought an old memory of a childhood fear to light, along with a name. A name forgotten until now, that had long ago been used to make him behave. Regulus breathed it softly.

"Azkaban."

He looked over at where the noise had come from, and was surprised to see an enormous but mangy-looking black dog. For a second he thought it was a Grim come to foretell his death in Azkaban, not that he needed any help with that particular prediction. Then the dog shrank back away from him – no, not from him, Regulus realized.

For the change in location had been begun by the opening of the cell door, and Regulus had still not turned to look behind him.

He did, and saw exactly what he had feared to see: fear itself. A dementor. He fumbled in his robes for his wand, but having drawn it, found that he had been under the creature's influence for far too long to ever be able to conjure his Patronus.

It was as he stood there helpless that the thought came to him, sounding clear as if he had tapped his wand upon a crystal glass.

Sirius had entered his living nightmare, and then he had entered Sirius'.

But Sirius' was yet to come.

* * *

Regulus shot upright in bed, gasping for breath like a diver surfacing from deep water. He clutched the soft, quilted coverlet with sweaty, shaking hands. He nearly leaped out of bed when the large grandfather clock in the hall began to chime. When he realized what it was, he did his best to quiet his shuddering breaths and listen. Four chimes sounded throughout the cozy, suburban American Muggle house, their steadiness and normalcy taking the edge off Regulus' adrenaline rush.

Four o'clock in the morning. Very well. When even his dreams made their best effort to cure him of his lazy habits, he supposed he had better listen, at least this once.

Of course it had all been a dream. Though it had felt incredibly real, looking back, most of it made absolutely no sense. Regulus grabbed his wand and slipped silently out of his bedroom (that had originally been the guest bedroom of the small one-story starter house) and entered their bathroom. He flipped the light switch and splashed some cold water on his face, then stared long and hard at his reflection in the mirror.

A slim sixteen-year-old on the tall side of short stared back at him, looking more obviously distressed than Regulus' sense of Black dignity typically allowed. He wondered vaguely how much different he looked from Sirius now that the two of them were essentially grown; indeed, Sirius would be seventeen now, an adult according to British wizarding law.

Regulus' own features had only been accentuated with age: short and slim but not unathletic – a Seeker's build, he'd often been told; fine black hair; large, misty gray eyes; and extremely fair skin. In short, he might have been a bit effeminate – Regulus scowled at the very thought – were it not for the long diagonal scar running from the middle of his forehead to just shy of his left ear, a memento of his escape from the Dragon's Den at the age of eleven.

Add to that the way he liked to keep his hair cropped quite short and spiky to avoid the uncanny resemblance he was starting to bear to his father, and add again the dangly bauble hanging from his right earlobe (which was actually one of Rogue's more brilliant inventions) and he dared say he looked downright punk. He definitely looked the part of a boy the respectable middle-class Muggle mothers of suburban America would steer their ridiculously sheltered daughters well away from, out of fear he was going to mad from too much…what was the phrase? Sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

He smirked at himself. "_Going_ to go mad?" he sneered at his reflection. "I thought you already were."

And maybe he was, because while he had no experience with the first two items in the list, he was developing a guilty preference for the more intense Muggle music, especially that new thing that Robin said was called "metal."

He sighed heavily, stretched lazily, then switched off the bathroom light and headed to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing. There was going to be an Omega meeting this evening, which meant he didn't have to go in for training today, so there was only studying and a bit of homework. Nothing too challenging, but since no one was going to be up for at least two hours, he might as well use the time.

It was going to be a _long_ day.


	2. Omega

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N:** So I understand that this idea is a little different, but hopefully it's not a bad different. More will be revealed about Regulus' past and current life as Dumbledore and later Sirius need to be filled in; for now you'll have to settle for meeting the members of Omega. By the way, I love heavy metal. It's interesting that metal was just starting to be a thing during this time. It sort of makes you wonder just how much correlation there is between the popular music scenes in the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

* * *

Sentinel arrived at the Morgans' a couple of hours early, as usual, and stayed for dinner after spectacularly losing several games of Muggle chess to Regulus.

To the few outsiders that knew about Omega, Sentinel (true name Bjorn Norheim, age…late thirties) seemed little more than a hired thug, out of place in such an elite group. In truth, as Regulus' more-or-less acting guardian at the time, Sentinel had demanded that he be allowed in the group, making it his condition for Regulus' involvement.

The huge, stoic Norwegian wizard had discovered the half-dead little escapee while searching the forests of Lapland for a couple of flying reindeer that had escaped from his herd. His strong paternal instinct and natural desire to protect had taken hold instantly, and he had taken the wounded, hypothermic young wizard into his care. Of course, the Dragons were not so easily swayed from their hunt, and a frantic year of hiding and living on the run followed, until they had managed to enter the States and had been granted protection.

Sentinel's high moral standards and common-sense way of thinking served Omega very well.

In truth, Regulus often felt a sickening guilt when he truly thought about how much Sentinel had given up for him; he had long ago sold his herd and bought a small apartment near where the Morgans lived in the suburbs of Boston. Another part of him was secretly glad, however, that his Onkel Bjorn had chosen to stay close. The Black part of him that still worried about what the family would think hated to admit this, but Regulus felt more safe, protected, and accepted around Bjorn than he ever had around his true father.

Indeed, even though they were both people who preferred quiet to meaningless chatter, and thus the happy times between just them were rarely loud or energetic, it was with memories of Bjorn that Regulus had cast his first Patronus.

Of course, the Morgan sisters more than made up for the two wizards' lack of talkativeness.

Dove (true name Grace Morgan, age twenty) was a Muggle-born witch, the owner of the house, and the official Healer of Omega. Kind and gentle to a fault, Dove despised violence and liked to pretend that she was every member's personal therapist. Or something. It was as though she thought that if she talked at them in that sickeningly sweet tone of voice long enough, all of Omega would convert to pacifism.

Naturally, Regulus avoided being alone with her at all costs.

Her younger sister Robin (true name Emily Morgan, age sixteen) was much more tolerable, despite the fact that she was a full-blown Muggle. Though not unkind, she had a feisty edge to her and always spoke her mind, often quite bluntly. She had a subtle rebellious streak as well, though all it amounted to was "I may be a good little Muggle girl, but I'm going to listen to Judas Priest and be totally okay with wizards and no one can stop me," rather than anything truly destructive. Her talents in Omega were of organization and logistics; she arranged the meetings and made sure lines of communication and supplies stayed open. Regulus hadn't thought before meeting her just how many magical inventions – the Floo network and owl post especially – could be easily used by Muggles.

Regulus himself was the Scout of the group – the spy, the sneak, the information-gatherer, the lookout, the infiltrator, and et cetera – and went by the code name Wraith.

After dinner, the sisters went about the kitchen tidying up and setting the dishes to wash themselves, while Sentinel began hauling chairs into the basement in preparation for the meeting. Meanwhile, Regulus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and slipped quickly onto the roof from his bedroom window, being sure to close and lock it behind him. He crouched in the shadows behind the chimney to wait for Rogue to arrive and to ensure that the house wasn't being watched.

Knight, Lady, and Saber would likely all arrive by Floo, but Rogue would be dropped off by his Muggle mother's SUV. At fourteen, he was the youngest member of Omega, a half-blood Japanese-American wizard who, along with Robin and Dove, made up Omega's non-combatant or "home base" group. He was the team's teen genius, a specialist in magical theory and inventor of spells and wizarding gadgets. Regulus' earring was a prime example of his work: dangling from a thin chain was a tiny metal ball that, when touched, would open a communication link with a hub at the Morgans', usually run by Rogue. All the field agents of Omega had one, and if Regulus needed to locate one of them during a mission, the chain would swing around to guide him in their direction.

Regulus didn't know Rogue's true name, nor Knight's, nor Saber's. Knight was the leader of the group, a steady-tempered young Auror of German pure-blood descent, whose grandparents had fled Europe with their families during Grindelwald's brief but memorable reign of terror. Saber was a sharp-tongued (Robin used the word "sassy") Muggle-born African-American Auror and easily the best duelist on the team. She was also fairly vocal in her beliefs that wizards and witches who cut themselves off entirely from the Muggle world were prejudiced cowards and that most of the more impractical wizarding traditions ought to be done away with. She butted heads often with Regulus and Lady on that score.

Lady (true name Catherine Greybourne, age twenty-two) was a Canadian witch, a young pureblood socialite whose father had recently been appointed the Canadian Minister for Magic. Her family's wealth and power, as well as her own beauty, got her into parties and state functions all over the world, and it came in quite handy. She had even managed to get herself invited to a couple of events in Moscow, which was quite a feat considering the political climate between wizarding America and wizarding Russia was much the same as its Muggle counterparts, except that no one had yet invented a magical equivalent of nuclear weapons, and thank Merlin for that.

Rogue's mother pulled up in her enormous blue SUV five minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start. The slightly overweight, bespectacled teen stood by the driver's window for a moment, likely receiving a last-minute lecture that "yes, he really did have to come right out at eight-thirty." Turning to the house with his backpack slung over one shoulder, he stood for a moment in the still-bright summer evening, peering intently up at the roof. Regulus smirked. Rogue prided himself on his intelligence, and was determined that one day he would be able to spot "that kinda creepy but totally awesome weirdo Wraith" while on lookout on the roof. Regulus was determined that he wouldn't.

Rogue finally went inside, only after Dove opened the front door and asked him in. Regulus stayed put, completely still, and would for another ten minutes or so; he had learned long ago to be able to count time without being given away by the tell-tale ticking of a wristwatch. He needed to be sure Rogue hadn't been followed or that no curious wizards (or Muggles) would be poking around. Nothing had ever happened before, but there was wisdom in caution, especially where Omega's sensitive missions were concerned.

Seven minutes passed without incident, and then Regulus noticed someone suspicious coming up the sidewalk – suspicious in that he was quite obviously wearing wizard robes in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. Regulus lightly fingered his bauble.

"Rogue. Suspicious person. Wizard."

Lady's voice sounded softly by his ear instead. "We didn't exactly invite him, but if it's Albus Dumbledore, let him in, Wraith. If not, the usual."

"…Right."

Albus Dumbledore? If the Headmaster of the top wizarding school in the British Isles (and the world, if the person you ask is an alumnus) was attending a meeting, then Omega was likely about to get involved in the quickly escalating violence between the British Ministry of Magic and the fanatic followers of the Dark wizard that wizarding Britain so feared that no one would speak his name.

As the stranger neared, Regulus saw clearly that it was indeed the world-famous teacher; any child who had ever collected chocolate frog cards knew what Albus Dumbledore looked like.

Still Regulus hesitated for a moment.

He had managed to live fairly anonymously since his escape from the Dragon's Den all those years ago. Though he had made it obvious that he was a pure-blood wizard born into the old tradition, and had for the most part retained his British accent, he had never divulged his story or even his name to the other members of Omega, though he was pretty sure Lady, with all her connections, had figured it out. He was content with being Wraith.

Now that Omega was getting involved in the intrigues of wizarding Britain, though, life was about to get much more complicated for him.


	3. Regulus Black

**Disclaimer: What you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N:** Just to make myself perfectly clear, this will not be a manipulative and/or evil Dumbledore or Dumbledore-bashing story. I do like him, but I also think that Sirius probably didn't have his complete trust during the First War. Dumbledore is only human, and he tends toward favoritism, though he's objective enough to usually be fair. However, he's grooming James to be a hero, and Remus is his pet desegregation project, and he probably thinks Peter's harmless. After the infamous Whomping Willow incident (allusions to which can be found below), it only makes sense that his trust in Sirius would be broken. In canon, Sirius never really regained that trust, which is the only reason I can think of why Dumbledore would let a member of the Order of the Phoenix rot in prison for twelve years without a trial. In this AU...well, I've got a few ideas, but I'm taking it one step at a time. ;)

* * *

Regulus quickly left the roof, landing noiselessly on the grass in the backyard and removing the Disillusionment Charm before heading around front to find Dumbledore waiting patiently on the porch. The white-bearded wizard smiled pleasantly when he appeared, though his eyes did widen noticeably in surprise. Regulus suspected that in surprising Albus Dumbledore he had accomplished – and by walking onto a porch, no less – what many brilliant wizards could not do in their lifetimes. Then again, most wizards were not legally dead in their homelands.

Regulus quickly tapped the doorknob with his wand to unlock it, then motioned for Dumbledore to enter. After checking the surroundings one last time for any suspicious activity, he entered himself and locked the door behind him. Rogue had plenty of wards put up in a complex warning system, so he wasn't too terribly worried.

Regulus pocketed his wand and headed toward the door to the basement.

"I take it you realized who I am, sir?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Not precisely, Regulus."

Regulus turned around and met the Headmaster's merry blue eyes.

"Your colleague Miss Greybourne was obliging enough to supply me with your name when she suggested this collaboration, so to realize anything was rendered unnecessary." He smiled warmly. "Though I must say, it would be hard not to when one has taught as many of your family as I have in my time. The resemblance to your father, Orion Black, is particularly strong."

"I know. Shall we join the others downstairs?"

"Ah. Certainly."

"After you."

Regulus' mind had left the conversation after Dumbledore's first sentence. He had suspected Lady had guessed his true identity, but why on earth had she revealed it? The whole point of Omega being a secret team that could deal with problems the gridlocked American Wizarding Council couldn't agree to get involved in was that it was a _secret _team. Knight held authority over Omega's members and had brought them together himself; even Knight's direct commanders only knew Knight's identity. True names and private lives weren't supposed to get involved. Unless…

Unless they had finally decided to sack the Wraith.

Though Regulus had proved himself again and again, Saber was still the only adult in Omega who had no problem with putting a minor in the field. There were plenty of trustworthy and experienced wizards and witches from the Scouts or Wizarding Intelligence who could fill his position better than he could. With these thoughts swirling frantically through his head, Regulus warily took a seat in the circle of chairs and sent Lady what he hoped was a piercing glare.

"So it seems that _names_ are to be involved in our next mission."

She had the decency to look at least a little uncomfortable; everyone in Omega knew what an extremely private person Regulus was.

Knight spoke up instead. "She did so under my orders, Wraith. Your background and identity have made you not only central, but invaluable to this team's next operation, and I doubt it's one you'd want to miss."

That last could only mean one thing. "The Dragons? And here I thought I was going to be told to go spy on Death Eaters." The obvious connection between the two Dark groups became perfectly clear then, filling his veins with icy dread. "Dear Merlin, please tell me he's not trying to recruit the Dragons."

"From what I've heard of You-Know-Who's ego, I wouldn't put it past him to believe that he could," Lady said. "But he won't succeed. The Dragons are international organized crime, which means that while they're into some pretty Dark stuff, at the end of the day they're all about profit. We're more worried that they may strike up a deal: supply the Death Eaters with information and valuable artifacts in exchange for money, or maybe pardons for Dragons currently in prison. The Dragons have no ideology or creed except the desire for anarchy and gold. They've been patched together from small-time gangs and thugs all over the world, brilliantly organized by a handful of ruthless Dark wizards. They could care less about the kind of control You-Know-Who wants, but they have a reach that he can only dream of. And they also have the advantage, because right now wizarding governments are going to be watching out for fanatic pure-blood terrorists, not the mafia, of all things."

"That's right, Lady," Knight said. "We're particularly worried because of something one of the boys from Intelligence stumbled onto while doing a routine check of the Dragons' activity. Their activity in Britain has gone up considerably, and they appear to be interested in infiltrating Hogwarts. However, we have no idea what they want – an artifact, perhaps, or a person, or even just to see if Hogwarts' famous defenses can be penetrated. We've been given the job of investigating."

Robin grinned. "And who better to investigate a school than a student?"

Knight grinned back. "Exactly." He turned to Regulus again. "This one's pretty much yours, Wraith. There's not much the rest of us can do. Professor Dumbledore's set a lot of conditions for this collaboration."

Regulus eyed the Headmaster nervously. "What _kind_ of conditions?"

"I'm so glad you asked." Dumbledore was smiling pleasantly again. "I don't wish to downplay the seriousness of your assignment, but Hogwarts is my school. If Regulus is going to 'infiltrate' my school, as you say –"

Here Regulus shrank back in his seat as many curious pairs of eyes turned to him upon hearing his name for the first time. Saber snickered, probably at how obviously wizarding "Regulus" was. Dumbledore paid them no heed, of course.

"– then he will not pose as a student, he will actually be one. And while I myself will know why he might be out and about after curfew, I will not be able to share that with the other staff, nor with the prefects, who are authorized to give detentions if they feel it is necessary. He will also be known by his true identity and will be Sorted into a House in the usual manner."

Regulus frowned. "But I have a history with the Dragons. They know my name. Will they not suspect something if I show up just as their own operation at Hogwarts is getting underway?"

Robin spoke up again. "Not necessarily, 'cause they don't know what you've been doing since your…history…and they definitely don't know that you're in Omega. Besides, going by your real name would help you reconnect with family, make it all look more normal. The long-lost son returning home and all that."

Dumbledore looked pleased. "You know, sometimes I do regret that Hogwarts does not take foreign exchange students. But I suppose I cannot have everyone's brightest youngsters," he said wryly.

The awkward silence that descended over the room was so thick that the old Professor sensed it instantly. "Have I said something to offend?"

Robin smiled softly, but there was a pain in her eyes that Regulus had never noticed before. "No, sir. It's just…I couldn't even if I wanted to. I'm…I'm a Muggle, sir."

Now it was Robin's turn to have surprised the greatest living wizard in the world.

"I see. In that case, let me be the first to inform you that you are a very extraordinary Muggle, young lady."

"Thank you, sir," she said, once again much more shyly than usual. For the first time, Regulus wondered if Robin wished she and her sister's roles had been reversed. Certainly, she often seemed more excited about magic than Dove. Or perhaps Regulus was making things up and she was just nervous in the company of such a famous wizard.

Dumbledore was continuing. "That is correct, in any case. I do intend for Regulus to reconnect with at least one family member. Not his parents, unfortunately…" He glanced at Regulus, who merely shrugged, unwilling to divulge just how glad he was to avoid the people who had practically sold him to the Dragon's Den in the first place. "…as I'm sure it would hinder Omega in its assignment if he were to be constantly pressured to join the Death Eaters."

"Whoa, there. Now you wait just one minute." Saber leaned forward earnestly in her chair. "I knew that our Wraith – sorry, 'young master Regulus,'" she sneered in false deference, "was from one of those filthy rich families that you're plagued with over across the pond, the ones where they still keep house-elves and the only Muggle clothes they own are tuxes and ball gowns, but you're telling us _now_," (this was directed with a glare at Regulus himself), "that your family is connected to Dark wizards? It's probably a tradition, too."

Regulus gripped the arms of his chair almost painfully and, sitting up as straight as he possibly could, leveled his gaze at her. "I am Regulus Arcturus Black, second son of Orion Black and grandson of Arcturus Black, the current head of the House of Black. My family have been practicing magic in Britain since the Norman invasion. We have been integral in shaping the wizarding history of Britain, of Europe, and of the world."

Rogue groaned obnoxiously. "Merlin, you two, not _now_."

But Regulus wasn't finished. He had had this exact same quarrel, using, for the most part, these exact same words, with Saber before, but somehow, throwing his true name, his Black name, out into the open air had made him bolder and angrier than usual.

"There is an inherent nobility to that sort of legacy, and I intend to do my utmost to continue that legacy whether my multitudes of cousins do or not! I am proud to be a Black, and there is _nothing_ automatically Dark about that!"

It was only when he stopped for breath that he realized he was standing and shouting. He could feel his face heating at the ridiculous display of emotion in front of Dumbledore, and sat back down awkwardly.

Dumbledore looked oddly pleased at his outburst, though. "Yes, yes," he was saying softly to himself. "I can see that you will indeed have much to teach one another."

"Teach one another? With who?" Regulus questioned.

Dumbledore didn't answer. Instead he turned to Knight. "I have already contacted the Potters, and they are quite eager to have Regulus stay with them for the rest of the summer. It seems there is still some friction between the boys after…well, _that's_ neither here nor there. What matters is that his lodging with them will seem fairly believable to any prying eyes."

Lady's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh. The brother."

"Quite so."

"Would someone mind filling me in?" Regulus interjected before he could be confused any further.

Lady regarded him curiously. "You don't know? It was all over _The Daily Prophet_. Sirius Orion Black, age seventeen, freshly disowned runaway. He's staying with a school friend, James Potter, and his parents. I don't think anyone really knows why he's been officially cut off from the family, but the _Prophet_ is painting him as an ungrateful rebel who didn't know how good he had it, being born into such a wealthy family."

Regulus felt faint. "Sirius was _disowned_? What in Merlin's name did he do?"

"Hopefully, he stood up for his friends and his beliefs," Dumbledore replied. "You probably don't know this, but your elder brother was Sorted into Gryffindor. He seems to have completely rejected your parents' obsession with blood purity and has been labeled a blood-traitor, though he does have a flair for the dramatic and certain…unfortunate recent events…have caused my opinion of his emotional stability to take a depressingly downward turn. Nevertheless, some physical distance from certain family members will likely help him to clear his head. In any case, there is a tactical advantage to be gained from a reunion with your brother – and with introduction to James Potter."

Regulus didn't think he had the mental capacity to process everything he was hearing about his brother at once. The way he was being described, would Sirius even want to have anything to do with him? So he just answered weakly, "And what would that be?"

"Sirius, James, and two other boys, the four of which have been roommates at Hogwarts for six years now, are rather notorious troublemakers, and as they have gotten older, the pranks they pull have become more and more intricate. I will not be able to directly help you in your endeavors, but among the students you will find no one with a more thorough knowledge of Hogwarts Castle and its sundry hiding places than the 'Marauders,' as they have taken to calling themselves."

Regulus nodded, his mind still spinning in a thousand circles. Sirius…Blacks…Potters…Marauders…Dragons…Hogwarts…what was he getting himself into?

Having taken Regulus' nod as consent, Dumbledore smiled and looked to Knight. "Now that we have all that cleared up, what else needs to be arranged?"

"There are a few things, still. We'll need to falsify believable O.W.L. scores. Rogue?"

"Ah, yes…"

The conversation continued on, but Regulus heard little of it.

All he could think was that he was suddenly being thrust back into the uncertainty of the past and the spotlight of the future, and that distancing himself from the personal aspects of this mission would be as good as impossible.


End file.
